


1727

by DaTunaSamich



Series: works that I like [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2020-12-17 00:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21045230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaTunaSamich/pseuds/DaTunaSamich
Summary: A young man woke up subtly, rays of light illuminating the off-white walls of the dealership store rooms. The sound of footsteps reverberating out in the hallway.“Seventeen two seven, it’s time for breakfast.” A clerk said1727 sat up from his bedding, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the smell of black coffee easing his nerves.  Standing up, he walked towards the plexiglass wall, involuntary reaching out his arms in a morning stretch, yawning as he did.  The clerk unlocked the small window, sliding the tray of food through the hole in the door.Complete for now: February 27, 2020





	1. Dealership

1727

A young man woke up subtly, rays of light illuminating the off-white walls of the dealership store rooms. The sound of footsteps reverberating out in the hallway.

“Seventeen two seven, it’s time for breakfast.” A clerk said

1727 sat up from his bedding, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the smell of coffee easing his nerves. Standing up, he walked towards the plexiglass wall, involuntary reaching out his arms in a morning stretch, yawning as he did. The clerk unlocked the small window, sliding the tray of food through the hole in the door.

“Thank you, sir.” 1727 Said, grabbing the tray.

As he set the tray down onto the corner table, a second long yawn escaped him, his eyes shutting tight, the rest of the filmy sleep fading.

Fully awake, he looked down at the tray, and realized:

'It's Sunday', he thought, 'We get coffee on Sundays'.

1727 looked at the unusually large breakfast before him, ‘and there must be a corporate walk today’ he thought to himself as he sat down at the table, the food beckoning to him to be eaten. 1727 took the plastic fork and began to cut the food down to size, losing himself to his thoughts.

1727 left the tray at the door, having finished the food, and in need of a shave and a shower.

Reaching behind him, he pulled his shirt off in one motion, following with his underwear, tossing them into the laundry hamper by the wall, the embarrassment of being naked with nothing covering him having long faded years ago, in his early teenage years, before he had been resold back to the dealership. 1727 had been born into slavery, he had known his place in this world ever since he could think for himself, when he had been a child. Now, standing in front of his sink, shaving away the day’s worth of stubble that had grown on his face, he thought of what the day would entail, being paraded around the dealership, the higher-ups coming to inspect the product that they sold. 

Stepping into the hot spray of the shower 1727 felt the sting of the water on his freshly shaven face, the only thing that bothered him; Thoroughly washing his short hair, he started to brush the knots out of it as the water rained down, as it had been formed into an unruly mess from last night’s sleep. The bars of soap they were given had a soothing smell to them, and helped radiate a calm sense of relief around the dealership, despite the function the building had.

Stepping out of the shower, 1727 grabbed a towel and wrapped it around him, preferring to air dry for as long as possible. He went to the sink and wet his toothbrush, squeezing a pea sized amount of toothpaste on the white bristles, before wetting it again. Brushing his teeth, he spit the excess foam into the sink, stopping to readjust the towel for the second time. Rinsing his mouth out, he looked into the mirror, the time on the clock telling him that he had only a few minutes left before he had to be ready.

Getting dressed in the white clothes that were provided for him, he grabbed his glasses, the frames soothing the sharp features of his face, he could see without his glasses, but in order to do so he would have to really focus sometimes, and he had gotten beaten when he was younger because of his mistakes.

A sudden buzzing noise alerted him that it was time for him to be ready at the door. Hurriedly tying his shoes, he stood by the door, waiting for his handler, the young clerk who had brought him his food earlier this morning, it was ironic, who his handler was, by the look of him, a minimum wage employee, possibly a high school student, in charge of him and the others in the facility, though because of his age and experience, he was probably the only slave that the handler was in charge of.

His handler approached his room, sliding a key card in the electronic lock, the plexiglass1 door slid open,

“Goodmorning 1727, please follow me.”

1727 nodded, following his handler out through a security door out onto the sales floor. A plethora of equipment and puzzles littered the sales floor, neatly spaced out, looking to his right 1727 saw tented off areas for pleasure slaves, thankful that he wasn’t marketed as one. 1727 prided himself with the fact that he was smarter and weaker than most of the other slaves in the dealership, limiting his marketing options, he was usually marketed as an assistant slave, meant for home or office work.

Being led over to a chess board, he was sat down with another slave, with whom he shook hands and began the game. Slapping the time clock to signify that his turn had ended, he noticed a woman asking his handler about him, the pointing fingers and nodding giving away their intentions. Watching his handler motion to him to come to him, he excused himself from the game, calling a forfeit, the other slave thanking him for the game.

Walking over to his handler, he felt the eyes of the other slave upon him, as being bought was highly sought after, as it meant getting out of the dealership, and going somewhere other than the same boring routine, to be named, to start a new life. Approaching his handler, he announced himself.

“Good morning Ma’am, I am number Seventeen Two Seven, an assistant slave, I am under twenty, and in good health.” 1727 said in an informative tone

“I see, that is all, i’ll take him, please show me all of the required forms.” The woman said.

A shocked expression painted his face and his hands started to tremble as 1727 started to follow his apparent new mistress and his handler to an office desk. 

\-------------------------------------------------  
1: Plexiglass: a transparent acrylic plastic often used in place of glass


	2. Home?

The ride from the dealership was tense, an hour of loud silence filled only by the sound of the vehicle’s engine. When they stopped in front of a suburban house, his mistress said her first words to him.

“So, what should I call you?”

“Ever-” 1727 cleared his throat “Everyone at the dealership called me Seventeen Two Seven, ma’am, if I may be allowed to keep that name, even if it is a number.”

“Very well, 1727, welcome to my home, my name is Ms. Lillith Bramton; You may call me: Mistress, or Ma’am.” His Mistress said.

His Mistress exited the car, grabbing a backpack from behind her seat as she did.

“Well come on.” She said to him as she closed the door. 

Unbuckling the seatbelt, he opened the door and stepped onto the curb of his new home. He followed his mistress up onto the patio of the house when the backpack was thrust into his arms, it was heavy and clumsy, 1727 confused as to what was inside.

“Welcome to your new home, I’ll give you a tour.” Mistress said, guiding him through the halls. 

Opening doors, up and down stairs, through the backyard and the garage. Before stopping back in the main living room.

“Now, any questions?” She asked

“Yes, ma’am, Why exactly did you buy me?” 1727 Flinched as he said the last few words. Having been in the dealership for most of his whole life, having only been bought once by a library as a boy, before being sold, never have been owned by a single free person before.

“Well, young man, I’m nearing Thirty, in the middle of my career, and need some help in my life. And most others in my position would have a house full of slaves by now; You are my first.”

“oh... Thank you, Mistress.”

“You’re very welcome 1727, now, how old are you?”

“I’ll be turning 18 on the fifth of november, ma’am, I am 17 as of now.”

“I see, what are your skills, what can you do?” His mistress asked him.

“Ma’am, I grew up in a library, so I like to keep most everything organized, it’s a bit of a habit I’m afraid.” 1727 said

“Ah, I see, but can you cook, or clean.”

1727 shook his head.

“Very well, then I shall teach you, how does lunch sound, come, put the bag down.”

1727 put the backpack down by the couch, and walked into the kitchen with his mistress.

“Alright, first off, we wash our hands,” She said as she grabbed a bottle of soap, pouring some in both of their hands.

1727 saw how Mistress scrubbed her hands underneath the faucet and grabbed a towel to dry them, following the unsaid instructions to the letter.

“Have you ever had egg salad sandwiches, 1727?” She asked him.

1727 thought back to his life at the dealership, having eaten eggs, salad, and sandwiches, but the combination of said foods was a mystery to him, he imagined a sandwich with scrambled eggs and lettuce leaves.

“uhhm, no Mistress…” He replied.

“Alright, I'll teach you how to make them then,” she said, grabbing a pot, a cutting board, and a few utensils from the cabinets and drawers. 

“Ok, first grab the eggs, celery, mayonnaise, and green onion from the fridge.”

1727 opened the door of the refrigerator, marveling at all of the ingredients before him, getting lost in everything before snapping his mind back to reality. Reaching into the fridge, 1727 grabbed a carton of eggs and the jar of mayonnaise from the shelf, setting them onto the counter, going back and looking for the celery and green onion.

“Mistress, where are the vegetables?” he asked

“They’re in the bottom drawer”

1727 fiddled with the fridge, opening the drawer, and finding the vegetables that were needed, placing them on the counter, then closing the refrigerator door.

“Ok, all set, what we’re going to do is boil these eggs for 12 minutes, and chop the vegetables.” His Mistress said, dropping some eggs into the pot of water on the stove.

“Ok what I want you to do is chop these vegetables, you can manage right? I’ll be right back.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

His Mistress nodded as she set a timer for the eggs, leaving 1727 in the kitchen alone to chop the vegetables. 

Taking the knife from aside the cutting board, 1727 positioned one of the green onions on the surface, slowly chopping slivers of green vegetable away when he felt a jolt of pain shoot through his hand, drops of blood collecting on the cutting board.

“Hey 1727, do you know where- OH MY GOD, WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

1727 tried to speak but all that came out was a stutter and the clang of metal as he dropped the knife onto the floor.

“Come here, come here.” His Mistress said frantically, turning on the faucet, “Put your hand under here”   
His Mistress guided his injured hand underneath the cool flow of water, a soothing feeling invaded his senses, calmed him.

“Ok, just keep your hand there for a while longer,” His Mistress said, as she grabbed a hand towel from a drawer.

“Ok, hold this on the cut, i'll grab a bandage.”

1727 took the towel, and pressed it onto his hand, the towel turning a deep red, but stopping the bleeding nonetheless. His Mistress returned with a first aid kit and another towel.

Mistress took out some supplies from the first aid kit, and arranged them on the counter, before running his hand under the faucet again. She then proceeded to dress the wound in gauze and tape, wrapping his hand so that it was almost good as new.

“Ok now let me show you how to correctly chop vegetables.” She said, cleaning up the mess he made, setting up a new cutting board and grabbing another knife.

“First,” 

His Mistress started to speak, but he couldn’t hear her, his mind was swimming in thought as she showed him how to simply cut vegetables.


	3. Personal Space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block hittin' me like a freight train for real.

Mistress had shown him to his room after lunch, and told him that he could have the rest of the day off, free to use it how he liked.

1727 was bold enough to close the door behind him, not being told to leave it open. His room was simple, it had a bed, dresser, closet with a mirror, and a desk with a pc. He looked at his bandaged hand again, wondering how long it would stay that way.

He walked over to the dresser, rummaging through the drawers, finding them all empty, they would probably go shopping soon to get him more clothes soon. Walking over to the mirror he looked at what he was wearing, all white: his shoes, trousers1, shirt, everything, the only thing that wasn’t white were his glasses, the frames were black, the only thing that gave him a visible personality. 1727 slipped off his shoes and set them next to the door, following with his socks, letting his feet breathe for what felt like forever, his toes soaking in cold wooden floor. The room had a window, with vertical blinds. Walking over to them, he found the control stick, twisting it so that the blinds were closed, the room now darker than it was a moment ago.

Relatively situated, 1727 felt comfortable, or more comfortable than not, and with that he walked over to the desk; Sitting down in the rolling office chair he turned on the PC and the monitor, watching the computer come to life with a soft glow. 

1727 had used computers before, it was necessary in his training in the library, and furthermore in the dealership, tests and lessons made for each category of slaves, the interfaces were the same, but the government computers used an outdated browser that was slow, blocky, and wouldn’t load half the time. 1727 had secretly updated the browsers on the computers he had used, but he had learned that the computers got a software update every month, resetting his progress to square one. 

1727 fiddled around with the computer, going through files and settings, before setting it up how he wanted it. The games that were on the computer as default options were limited, solitaire; and chess, in which you could go up against a bot. There was always the Internet, a doorway to infinite possibilities of entertainment.

After watching videos of people playing video games for what seemed to be a long time, 1727 was called down to the dining room by his Mistress, the smell of food permeating the air. 

Walking down the stairs, he found his Mistress filling bowls with hot soup, the table set for two.

“Hey 1727, everything situated?”

“Yes Mistress, may I ask what’s for dinner?”

“Ah, an old family recipe” She said, satisfaction covering her face as she wiped her hands on her apron. 

1727 hummed in approval, his mouth watering at the sight of the steam moving with the bowls. Walking up to the table, he took a seat on the far side, his Mistress bringing him a cold drink.

As his Mistress sat down in her seat, he started to form a question in his mouth, but opted to hold his tongue until they ate. 

-

As the bowls grew emptier and the casual conversation of what was to come for tomorrow grew to a close, 1727 asked his question.

“Ma’am, I know that you’ve answered me before, but why did you buy me if you needed a house slave, and I am trained to be an assistant slave?”

“Truly boy? Well,” His Mistress cleared her throat, “Already trained house slaves have all of the necessary skills, so that they don’t need to be taught, and make few mistakes, if ever.

If I were to buy one of them, there would be no challenge to train them to how I like them. In addition, the skills you already have would help me greatly in my profession.”

“May I ask what your profession is, mistress?” 1727 said

“Ah, I am a teacher at LarkHill High, I teach a junior class, eleventh grade.”

“Oh, will I be helping you with the students then?

“Only if I need you to, most likely I'll have you grading papers and preparing lessons, that sort of thing.”

“Tomorrow is monday mistress, Would I be wearing this to the school?”

“Oh no, I have a uniform that should fit you just fine, it should be hanging in your closet.”

“Ah, thank you Mistress.”

Mistress Lillith got up and collected the plates from the table, motioning for 1727 to follow.

“1727.” His mistress said, his name hanging heavy in the air.

“Yes, Mistress?” 

“Have you ever received any pleasure training from your previous masters, or from the dealership?”

1727’s felt the heat flood his face at the question as he stuttered, “I know- what to do, so I- I; yes, ma’am.”

“Are you a virgin, 1727?”

1727 looked at the ground, embarrassment washing over him in waves. “Yes, Ma’am.”

A long pause filled the room.

“Ah, I see. That’s all, then; you can do as you please for the night, you’ll need to be up at 6am tomorrow morning, we leave at 6:30.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Goodnight 1727.”

“Goodnight Mistress.”

1727 went to his room, blush still lingering on his face, and prepared for the day ahead.


	4. School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been lazy, no excuses, 
> 
> too much reading
> 
> not enough writing

1727 lay in bed:

‘Why had Mistress Bramton asked if I was trained?

‘Why did she ask if I was a virgin?’

1727 lifted his head up to look at the alarm clock, 5:47 am, but his body wasn’t aching, nor did he feel sleepy, it was his first day of true work as a slave since he’d been sold, truthfully, he was excited. Excited to see new things other than white walls and customers. 1727 swiftly jumped out of bed and turned off the alarm clock, not that it had gone off, but so that it didn’t when 6 am rolled around.

Grabbing a towel he went to the bathroom, and closed the door.

\---

1727 walked into his room, towel around his waist, and closed the door. He then started to dry himself off, and think about what he might be doing today, who he might meet, how they might treat him. 

Thoroughly dry, 1727 hung up the towel on a hook on the back of his door.

1727 then walked over to his closet, opening the door to reveal several uniforms; Squinting at the tags, and finding one his size, he set it on his bed. Opening the plastic packaging that the uniform was kept in, he found that a pair of boxers and socks were included in the bundle of clothes.

1727 dressed himself in the uniform, finding it to be a bit baggy, but summed it up to him being a bit underweight, a problem he’d dealt with for most of his life; a problem most slaves dealt with most of their lives. 

Done with the tie, 1727 squinted and felt around his desk for his glasses, finding the cold metal frames and sliding them onto his face.

His world coming into focus for the first time that day, 1727 looked over to the clock, 6:02.

1727 mentally cursed himself and rushed to the kitchen, finding that a note containing instructions for breakfast had been left out for him by his master; it was a dish that used rice and eggs, easy.

\------

As he started to plate the dishes, Ms. Lillith had stepped into the dining room.

"Goodmorning 1727" she said

1727 finished organizing the plate of food while answering

"Good morning mistress"

“Sleep well, last night?” She asked

1727 adjusted his glasses, “Yes, I did ma’am, Breakfast is ready, thank you for the instructions.”

“You’re welcome, I see you got dressed properly, tie and, oh-”

“hm, Mistress?” 1727 said

“I missed one thing,” Ms. Lillith said, digging into her backpack, pulling out a small yellow armband,she slid it onto his arm, the velcro garment tightening around his arm snugly,

“That will identify you as a slave.” she said, grabbing a tupperware from the cupboard, “we’ve got to be going soon, my class starts early,”

1727 looked at the microwave clock, 6:37, and was soon out the door, following his Mistress closely to her vehicle.

-

The ride to the school was quiet, a light drizzle of rain, and a static filled radio forecast report the only real contributors to the conversation.

Pulling up to the school, 1727 saw kids walking in groups, most of them must be friends, he thought, he was some with odd shaped cases, some in military uniforms, laughing, playing around, he saw some in shorts and t-shirts, some slaves holding umbrellas for their masters.

Walking to the classroom with his mistress, he saw other slaves, all wearing the same yellow armbands. Confirming that he wasn’t alone.

The classroom was filled with seats, the chairs spaced out wide, with a small mat on the side of the chairs, ‘probably for the slaves that students bring.’ 1727 thought. Against one of the walls, adjacent to the teachers desk, was a long table with shallow bins, and a chair.

“Where do you want me, Ma’am?” 1727 said, as he watched her pass some papers out onto the students desks.

“You will be sitting over there, at the long table, grading the papers that get handed in.” Ms. Lillith instructed, “The rubrics are there, labeled, forms a through d, if there is no name, set it aside, and it won’t be graded.”

1727 walked over to his assigned place, before him was a multitude of supplies, pens of various colors, pencils, erasers, etcetera.

Taking a seat, he heard the door open, and looking over his shoulder he saw some students walk in. They looked like him, the age difference negligible at best. This made him wonder what they would be like once he would inevitably interact with them, would they be harsh towards him, a slave, nice, pitiful, or indifferent?

Turning back and staring out the window, he noticed that he got a great view of the outer campus, and could even see out past the chain-link fence. The cars gliding by on the streets venturing on to their destination.   
1727 turned in his seat to watch the arriving students, noticing that there were some slaves were arriving in tow with their own respective masters. He saw that almost all the students that had entered weren’t carrying backpacks, opting instead to have their slaves carry their books and other supplies instead.

After a short while, when the bells had rung, his Mistress had stood up in front of the class.

“Good morning everyone. Welcome back, I hope you all have been studying over the weekend, because we have a test today.” she said with a hint of laughter. “When you are done you will turn them in to the blue bin on the far side of the room. Which brings me to the next topic of discussion, this is Seventeen Two Seven, He is my new property, I wish for you all to treat him as you would treat me, even if, yes, he is a slave and bears no rights.”

“Any questions?” 

A moment of silence echoed through the room as 1727 bounced between the stares of the students, some of them smiling, most of them frowning or indifferent.

“Very well, the test begins now, when you are done you can begin on your creative writing assignments, or catch up on work from another class.”

Turning back to the window, 1727 could still feel some of the stares glare into the back of his head.


	5. Social Interactions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though this is in a modern setting, I am keeping the weapons technology held back to non-automatic weapons. (just some world building choices)

1727 sat in the monotonous silence of scratching pencils and turning pages, yet to grade any of the students’ papers; Then he heard a table screech, and shallow footsteps on the thin carpet. Turning to see who was turning in their test, a taller girl with light brown hair in a bob cut, it was when she leaned down to place her test in the bin that he saw her band, and then the tattoo on her wrist, a slave. 1727 adjusted his glasses before picking up the test, his fingers slightly trembling due to the cut as he picked up the stapled sheets.

The task he had been given was relatively easy, find the form type, (a,b,c,d.) and compare answers accordingly, halfway through grading the test, he heard several chairs screech and more and more tests were turned in, mostly by the slaves of owners, but some students did it themselves, mostly those who didn’t own slaves.

29/30, The first test’s score was almost perfect. 1727 organized the tests by form type, to make the grading easier, faster.

His task went by much faster once he got everything organized, having gotten two tests done in the time it took him the first time, there were a few no names, which he put to the side as instructed. Soon every paper was organized, by form type, and back in the blue bin.

Suddenly, the bell rang, causing 1727 to jump slightly in his chair, his hands instinctively coming up to his glasses. He turned in his seat, watching all the students pack up and leave the classroom, once they all left, he approached his mistress.

1727 cleared his throat “Ma’am, may I be allowed to the restroom?”

Mistress answered him after a pause, “Yes dear, be quick.”

“I will ma’am.” 1727 said as he headed towards the door. 

-

He got back to the classroom before the bell rang, the trip to the restroom having left him feeling awkward and self-conscious amongst the students, ‘Was that the right restroom? Were there segregated restrooms for slaves? Did he do something wrong without knowing?’

Sitting down in his seat, his mistress called to him, filling the empty class,

“1727, come here, I need you to do something for me.”

1727 hummed in response.

Ms. Lillith handed him a stack of tests to pass out onto the students’ desks.

Passing the tests out was easy as it sounded, the bell rang as he finished, students filling in the seats.

-

Another bell rang, another class dismissed, the third or fourth class of the day, 1727 couldn’t remember, the work was mind numbing, repetitive.

A voice pulled 1727 from his work, the pile of tests seeming endless.

“Are you going to go to lunch 1727?”

“Uh, erm, I still have more tests Ma’am”

“Take a break ‘27 you need to eat, drink, rest; Here I packed you a lunch. Also here’s a map, find the slave tables in the yard, make some friends.” Ms. Lillith said quickly, ushering him out the classroom, bag and paper in hand.

1727 stood outside, alone for the second time at the school, his hands fumbling with the map, trying to find where he was and where the slave tables were in the courtyard. His fingers traced the map with haste, finding both “slave tables” and his Mistress’ classroom number. 1727’s legs started to move before he thought about the route he was going to take, Fear, and the sense of urgency taking hold of his mind.

His mind seemed to be racing to find a group of people wearing the yellow arm bands, some of his kind. Some familiarity. 

The second he saw the tables, a warmth swept through him, safety, a group.

Approaching one of the lesser filled tables, he was met with the stares of its occupants.

“Hi, my name is 1727, can I sit here?” He said quickly, stuttering, slightly shaken.

One of the slaves that was at the table straightened and spoke: “Hello 1727, My name is Jeramiah, this here is Theresa, yes please, sit.”

“You look new, is this your first time in a school?” Theresa said

“Yeah” 1727 said shallowly “It is, My mistress told me to-- make friends.” His statement pulled a snicker from Jeramiah,

“Hey!” 1727 Exclaimed.

“I'm sorry, it’s just that you remind me of myself when I first got my master, its funny, sorry”

“Come on, sit, eat, lunch is almost over.”

1727 just pouted as he took a seat next to him, setting the bag down in front of him, putting the map in his suit-jacket pocket.

“So, when did you get acquired?” Jeramiah pushed

“Yesterday, she took one look at me and bought me.” 1727 said, “It’s weird, I’ve had a lot of people look at me when I was at the dealership, I'd been there for a few years and I would have been shipped off to the Army if I hadn't been sold, my 18th birthday is coming up soon.” He said “What about you two?”

“I was acquired over eleven years ago, and I have a gracious master, he makes sure I'm well fed, clothed, clean, etcetera. He says he enjoys my company and intellect.” Jeramiah said smugly.

“I,” Theresa started, “was acquired a year ago, my master chose me, on looks I suspect, I help him with his, uhm, frustrations, and the like.”

“She’s a pleasure slave.” Jeramiah spoke crudely.

“Oh, I see… Sorry to hear that” 1727 said

“It’s not that bad, he’s gentle, mostly.” She trailed off.

“It’s better than to be aged out into the Army, you’ll die out in those no man's lands, those enemy marksmen are no joke, my master’s father was a soldier, his stories are astonishing.”

“Speaking of where we came from, did you two come from a dealership?” 1727 said.

“No, I was still a child at Wholesalers United when my master’s father found me, and bought me for his son’s birthday.” Jeramiah said

“What about you Theresa?” 1727 asked

“You first number 1727.” She said as if to insinuate something.

“KA Dealers, Assistant stock.” 1727 said.

“KA Dealers, Multipurpose stock,” Theresa said

“Hey guys, I think my master is getting tired of ‘1727’ she called me ‘27’ today, I suppose I should pick something soon, do you guys have any suggestions?” 1727 asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

Jeramiah looked down and pulled a notepad out of his bag and started to jot something down.

\----------  
1727  
17 2 7  
Seventeen two seven  
Seven teen two seven  
27  
2 7

7  
Seven, Steven Stephen, Stephan,  
Sev, Sven, Siv, Seb, Sebastian.  
\--------

1727 and Theresa leaned to peak over at Jeramiah’s paper, the scribbles covering the page.

“Jeramiah?” Theresa asked

Jeramiah looked up from his page, staring at 1727.

“Oh yeah, Definitely a Sebastian.”

“Sebastian?” 1727 asked

“Yes, i’ve taken your name ‘1727’, and broke it down to ‘2-7’ and then ‘7’, and then came up with ‘Sebastian’.” Jeramiah added. 

1727 nodded, a slight blush crossing his face.

“Um, thank you, I’ll keep it, you’ll be here tomorrow, right?” 1727 asked as the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period.

“Sure thing, Sebastian, see you tomorrow!” Jeramiah called as 1727 ran off.

-

The last classes of the day went by quickly, his task becoming rhythmic.

1727 watched as Ms. Lillith packed her things, offering to carry her bag for her, the two falling into step as they made their way to her car.

-

As 1727 lay in his bed, he thought about the people he’d met today, 

Jeramiah, the way he exuded confidence. 

How Theresa had been in the same dealership as him. 

These thoughts had engulfed him, the first friends he’d made in this new life.

“1727, dinner.” Mistress called, pulling him from his thoughts.

He made his way to the dining room, the table set with plates and glasses.

“Go on, sit down. I’ll bring it out.” 

1727 hmm-ed in response, Taking a seat at the table, his mistress bringing out dinner to the table, serving herself and then him, before setting the dish down.

“So tell me about your friends.” She said as she sat down.

1727 paused mid drink, and set the glass down, gathering his words.

“Hm, well there is Jeramiah, and Theresa,” he started, “Jeramiah has been a slave for eleven years and is very well spoken and intelligent, he’s cocky and confident, sure of himself, and Theresa, she’s more shy, and likes to take her time when speaking, Jeramiah is, I’d guess a multipurpose slave, he was a gift for his master when they were both young, say middle school.”

“That’s a long time to be bound to one master, he’s lucky.” his Mistress said

“As for Theresa, she’s… a, she’s a pleasure slave,” 1727 said with a blush “to her master, she came from the same dealership that you got me at, KA, but like I was an Assistant slave, she was marketed as Multipurpose.”

“We talked about,” 1727 paused again

“Where we came from for the most part, then the bell rang.” 1727 said with a laugh.

After dinner, 1727 returned back to his room, retiring for the night. His mind sticking on how he couldn’t tell her about his name. 1727 thought about why he couldn’t bring it out, coming up with no good reason other than fear, or being too shy, or if it would be wrong to demand something of his Mistress, his cowardice laughing at him through the night.


	6. Embarrassment

Sebastian shot up with consciousness, beads of cold sweat prickled his hot skin; his breath hard, heavy.

He looked around, eyes failing him in the dark, barely able to make out the dark shapes that presided within his room.

His eyes landed on his alarm clock, the red numbers stabbing his attention.

He couldn’t read them, unable to focus. Shallow moonlight shone through the blinds, Lighting the room enough for him to fumble over to his desk.

As he sat down in his chair, Sebastian reached for his glasses case, putting on the dusty, smudged frames to see the alarm clock in focus.

2:53

Sebastian yawned, his dry mouth blowing hot air and watering his eyes.

“Water” he whispered, dragging himself out into the hall, lumbering his way into the kitchen.

-

As Sebastian drank down the glass, a noise scattered in the back-yard.

When he heard the low curse that followed up the crashing sound, fear ran through him.

Seb’s mind raced, his heart pumping adrenaline; 

and the clicking of the back door being opened threw him from his shock, his hand flying for the knife block1. The motion seemingly cutting the palpable silence.

When Sebastian heard the intruder’s footsteps enter the hallway, his hand hovered over the wooden housing, a feeling of dread coming over him.

“You out here hon?” His Mistress called, her soft voice calming him, the air no longer acidic, threatening. His hand lowering back to his glass.

“Yes, ma’am, just getting a drink, i’ll be back in bed in a moment.” He answered, downing the rest of the water.

“Ok, sweet dreams hon.” she called as he walked back to bed.

-

The next morning, Sebastian woke up on the floor, his alarm clock angrily beeping at him.

Climbing from his tangle of blankets and sheets Sebastian hit the off switch, picking up the mess he slept in and straightening it out on the bed, not properly making it, but it would suffice if Ms. Lillith came in.

With a stretch he grabbed his towel, and headed to the shower, eager to get prepared for the day.

-

As Sebastian got dressed in his school uniform, he made his way to the kitchen, lost in thought

‘what was she doing out so late.’

Sebastian took out two plates, and put on his mistress' apron, for now, he would cook.

His eyes occasionally looked down to his hand, where the new bandage he applied held itself onto his now old accident.

Sebastian prided himself on his cooking, it was one of the things he thought he was good at that he taught himself, through old books at the library, sitting for hours on end, reading cookbooks and chef’s biographies when he could sneak them in; Alone with a world of information at his fingertips, seemingly infinite knowledge, until he was resold.

Of course in practice, it was different, this was his second time cooking, and without a book to guide him, the most difficult thing that he had made in the past without instructions was a bowl of cereal.

When Sebastian went to the sink, he noticed an empty mug alongside his glass,

‘Must be her’s.’ he thought to himself

Sebastian took out two small ramekins2 from the cupboard, cracking an egg into each of them, picking out the bits of shell that fell in, knowing that he’d have to replace his bandage later. He added a teaspoon of milk into each of the ramekins2, whisking the ingredients with a fork.

Next, he buttered a pan and put it onto a low heat, pouring in one of the scrambled eggs.

Watching his creation come to life, he added some seasoning and shredded cheese into the now solid egg, an omelette waiting to be folded. Folding the omelette, he sprinkled some pepper on the top of it, purely decorative.

Repeating for the second time, and sliding some bread into the toaster, he finished his and his Mistress’ omelettes, and with such efficiency that the clock was barely striking 6.

Covering the toast with an orange marmalade, he set the slices on their plates, finishing by brewing some coffee.

-

When his Mistress came out, she was pleased that he had made her breakfast, as he had never really cooked before.

The two ate in a comfortable silence, finishing their food quickly, and were out the door in a similar manner. 

The ride was quiet, a weather radio broadcast filling the silence. Seb had been staring out the window when they pulled up to the school, it had called for more rain throughout the weekend, he was lucky it had stopped yesterday, perhaps today he might be lucky again. 

-

As Sebastian went through his routine of paper sorting, he found himself checking his left side when people came to turn in their assignments and papers, checking their wrists, passing it off as him seeing more papers to work with, so far he has seen mostly slaves come up, tattooed wrist after tattooed wrist coming to turn in the papers for their masters, few times has he seen a free person come to turn in their own work, and when he did it was because, he noticed, it was one of the students that didn’t own a slave, or at least didn’t bring their slaves to school.

When class was over, hid asked his mistress if he was allowed to go to lunch, to which she allowed him, he was ever grateful that the owner who picked him was as generous as she was.

As Seb made his way towards his newfound friends, he had noticed some other slaves headed in all sorts of directions, perhaps going to their masters, or going to meet up with their friends, or perhaps somewhere else.

He dropped the thought when he approached his friends at the lunch table, being greeted by Jeramiah

“Afternoon Sebastian” he spoke up from his book

“Hey Jeramiah, what are you reading there?” Seb replied

“Just something my master needed help on, he needed me to read this along with him, so that he could get multiple points of view for his report.”

“Ah, that’s a good idea, what’s it about?”

“It’s Unto the wilds, about a kid who goes out into the remote wilderness because he doesn’t like his pampered lifestyle, but he isn’t well equipped and suffers because of his actions.”

“Hmm, interesting- have you seen Theresa?” Seb asked

“Yeah, her master came and took her away for something.” Jeramiah quietly responded

“Oh,” Seb blushed “I see,” he said, even quieter than Jeramiah, looking down in embarrassment,

An awkward silence filled the air as they sat there, Jeramiah buried his nose in his book, Sebastian sat there hands in his lap, slightly stunned, until Jeramiah handed him a small book, worn and yellowed pages,

“It’s a fantasy, full of exploration and such, to keep your mind moving.” He explained

“Are you sure your master won’t mind?” Seb asked,

“Yeah, he said that it was mine when he passed it down to me, so go ahead read to your heart’s content.”

Seb opened the worn cover, its thin pages intimidating him at first, but as he consumed the words on the pages, his appetite for the words grew, and soon he had finished the first chapter, and that is when he heard a voice.

“Hey guys, I’m back,” Theresa said, clothes wrinkled, a slight shine to her skin,

“Hey,” “hey…” Jeramiah and Sebastian greeted her, their faces growing red at the sight of her,

“Jeramiah, for all the times this has happened, and you still act like a child,” she scolded him, jokingly,

“I know, it’s just, I, you know, its not,” Jeramiah stumbled over his words, his craftsmanship over the spoken tongue failing to voice his thoughts in the present situation.

“It happens semi-frequently, once every few weeks, here, Master’s Home is a different story.” She said, causing the two young men to redden further.

Theresa laughed at their reactions, Jeramiah sheepishly handed her a book, to which she took, the trio spending their lunch reading books under an overcast sky.

-  
1: Knife Block: a block of wood or other solid material, containing long grooves in which kitchen knives of various sizes can be inserted up to the handle.

2: Ramekin(s): A small dish for baking and serving an individual portion of food.


	7. News

As the days rolled by, Sebastian found himself growing ever anxious, for, he hadn’t told his mistress about his new name still, and feared that telling her now would warrant him a punishment, the loss of all the things he had gained so far, his relative freedom under her roof.

A thought invaded his mind; perhaps he would never tell her about his name, what she did not know couldn’t hurt her right, even something as silly as a name, but then, he feared,

“... if I don’t tell her, and she finds out from someone else, would it be worse than if I told her myself?” He mumbled to himself, his voice a low whisper, hidden inside the walls of his room.

a light knock on the door jarred him and his thoughts.

“Hey, 17 2 7, I have some news, come to the dining room when you’re ready, ok?” His mistress said, voice carrying something strange, before ducking back out again, closing the door behind her.

‘I wonder what she needs to tell me. Is she getting another slave, is she… is she going to sell me back? have I been unsatisfactory?’ The thoughts assaulted his brain, he’d only ever had two owners, his mistress now and the old Librarian. 

Getting out of his bed, Sebastian quickly made it up, sloppily he might say, but enough, and headed towards the dining room, where he found his mistress waiting with a letter in hand.

“You wished to see me, mistress?”

“Yes, dear, please sit.” She started, “I got a letter today from the government.” her voice trailed off slowly,

17 2 7 Nodded with a slight humm as she continued: 

His mistress picked up the folded page that sat on the table amongst an opened envelope and letter opener.

“Dear slave owner, your household has been randomly selected, to inquire if your slave: #M-11-05-1727 has the desired qualities within his genetic construct to help alleviate the current population decay.”

His mistress paused to take a breath.

“Within 14 days of this letter’s transit, a government vehicle will be dispatched to collect the property for testing.”

“They want me for, for,” Sebastian grabbed a chair and collapsed onto the cushioned surface as his knees buckled, his lips forming the word but his throat refusing to push the air out of them.

Lillith raised from the chair and pulled him into a tight hug, resting his chin on her shoulder, “Hey, hey, it’s only for testing, you don’t know for certain if they want you, there are probably thousands of others getting these letters, it’s okay 17-”

“Sebastian, please, call me Sebastian,” He cut her off, “my friends and I came up with a new name, it’s Sebastian,” He said, in uneasy words, hyperventilating, tears dripping from his eyes, his worst fears coming straight for him.

It would be the end of him, all the years of training and education gone down the drain, it happened to some slave he had heard, throughout his years at the dealership, some had been trained as assistants, chefs, house maids, tutors, caretakers, everything other than pleasure slaves, but once that affiliation entered their record, it was the first thing that future buyers went for, it would be the end of him.

Sebastian released his arms from around his mistress’ back, leaning back in his chair to take a look at her face,

“I’m scared, ma’am, I don’t want to become a pleasu- a pleasure slave, It’ll ruin me.”

“It’s okay dear, you’ll be fine, they won’t choose you, you’ll just have to be strong and get through it when it comes ok? Then you’ll be right back here, safe and sound.”

-

Ms. Lillith allowed Sebastian to return to his room for the night, to plan out possibly the rest of his time in her possession.

He lay on his bed, staring up onto the ceiling, eyes puffy and red from long dried tears, mouth left agape, his glasses had been haphazardly tossed aside, and lay just out of his reach on the floor.

Sebastian let his mind wander aimlessly, going blank, thinking of nothing, whether it was to let the passage of time elongate, to savor the rest of what he had left, or to stall the inevitability of time passing altogether. He didn’t want to leave, it scared him, he’d been in the dealership for so long after he was sold, it seemed. 

It wasn’t long before Sebastian’s eyes fluttered shut, too exhausted from the day.

Sebastian lazily fluttered his eyes open to stinging white light, familiar, but…

… uncomfortably so.

His eyes shot open as he jumped off of his bed, his eyes darting around the room; his glasses gone, a white room entered his vision, fuzzy in definition, but he knew where he was, this vivid re-imagining of his old cell, an unwelcome coldness, followed by the voice of the younger employee, he couldn’t make out the time on the clock, but he went to the door anyway, 

“Goodmorning, Seb- oh, 1727, I see you’re well today,” he said with a smile, even without his glasses he could make out the guys features, as 1727 grabbed the tray, the room changed around him, going dark, the tray dropping to the floor and disappearing, leaving him in his dark cell, 1727 backed himself into a corner and balled up. ‘It can’t be real, this isn’t happening’ he thought, tucking his head into his knees. He had feared becoming alone, to lose what he had just gained, even if he had known them for a few days, these people were nice, and they cared about him enough to give him a new name.

Interrupting his thoughts, the door of the cell, once closed, squeaked open, and the pale moon light, somehow not penetrating the plexiglass wall, shone through the doorway, calmingly, as if to invite him out.

1727, no, Sebastian rose from the floor, and pulled his shaking body to the door, and to his surprise, through it was a vast and empty space.

Where his cell had been empty, monotone whites, greys, and blacks, this new frontier was a myriad of colour, fields of grass, and dirt pathway sprawled towards majestic purple mountains.

So he ran, and continued running, the grass soft and dirt moist as it shifted beneath his feet with each step.

But he had paid so dearly when he took a backwards glance, for behind him and gaining speed, encroached search parties of men and barking dogs, bringing with them the whites and greys of their monotone world, destroying and morphing the landscape before him into a mess of cyclopean cities.

It was when he turned his head forward that he saw the dreamscape that he had been running on start to fade to grey, muting itself in self preservation against the terror of man, 

Then, the fence came up; in front, at his sides, and when he turned, his back, boxing him in, caging him, like an animal,

No, Like a slave.

Sebastian shot awake, a cold sweat covering his body, when his mistress entered the room, a look of worry on her face, he looked to her, and she spoke,

“Nightmare?”

Sebastian nodded, and watched as his mistress came and took hold of him, She proceeded to walk him back to her room, tucking him into her bed, holding him as he fell back asleep in her arms.

Protected. Safe.


End file.
